


Aperture

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Benny, Blowjobs, Bottom Castiel, Dean and Cas Are Twins, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Name Calling, No One On This Show Is Straight Fight Me, Sibling Incest, Top Dean, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3323156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Some people asked them how it was that they never fought. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, we do,” Dean always answered. “Cas just never lets us stay angry for long.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Everything between them was as perfect as it could possibly be. Until junior year.</i>
</p><p>◊ ◊ ◊</p><p>In which Dean and Cas are brothers, Sam is not as oblivious as everyone thinks he is, and the boys get married. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aperture

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I basally just had a lot of fun writing this, and it's 90% self-indulgent porn and dirty talk and 10% semi-angsty plot. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
> 
> Also: In my state, 18 is the legal age, so that's why I put the 'underage' warning in the tags, even though Dean and Cas are both sixteen when the actual sex occurs.

Ever since they'd been brought into the world kicking and screaming and seven minutes apart, Dean and Cas had been inseparable. The first night after John and Mary brought their sons home, they woke up to two voices screaming and found them reaching across the room towards the other's cribs and crying their lungs out. After a week straight of the boys refusing to go more than a few feet away from the other without wailing, they just gave up. A day later, Dean and Castiel slept straight through the night, little bodies pressed together and Castiel sucking on Dean's thumb. 

As the boys grew, nothing changed. They were fraternal twins, but they couldn't have been any closer if they'd been identical. Dean took his first steps at ten months old, and two days later Castiel resolutely stood on his own two feet and stumbled after his little brother. When they fell, they fell together, and they laughed. 

Dean's first word was "Cas." The nickname stuck, and Dean toddled around the house, dragging his big brother with him and obstinately introducing him as "Cas" to their stuffed animals, the pictures on the walls, and the furniture.

Three weeks later, Cas's first word was "Dean."

When they graduated from cribs to beds, John had been hesitant to buy only one queen sized mattress, but Mary pointed out that they would likely end up in a single bed anyway, and that it was best if they saved themselves the trouble of having to get a bigger bed for the two of them later. John reluctantly agreed, but after they had the room set up and looked in on their sons that night, wrapped around each other in their bumblebee pajamas, he had to admit that his wife had a point. 

When baby Sammy was born, both Dean and Cas talked to him incessantly, reading him their favorite book by memory and pointing out the pictures and colors and shapes to him, not caring when he fell asleep on their laps, four legs pressed close together supporting his chubby weight.

At their first meeting with Dean and Cas's kindergarten teacher, the young woman suggested that John and Mary help them be more independent. After ten minutes of explanation and argument, they managed to convince her that there was nothing wrong with their sons, and that it was perfectly healthy and wasn't hindering them at all. Ms. Barnes looked at them skeptically for the entire thing, but she finally promised not to ask for one of them to be transferred out of her class. 

Miss Mosely, their first grade teacher, was much more understanding. She let them sit next to each other in class, turn in one sheet of homework with both their messy handwriting on it, and throw glitter on each other during arts and crafts. At the parent-teacher conference, she looked over at Dean and Cas, playing with the plastic dinosaurs in a corner of the classroom, chubby fingers locked together, and told Mary that her sons had something special between them, something beautiful.

Mary believed her. 

By the time they were ten, everybody in Lawrence knew that Dean and Cas Winchester were something special. No one talked about Dean or Castiel, they always talked about Dean-and-Cas. 

"How are Dean and Cas today, Mrs. Winchester?"

"Are Dean and Cas trying out for the soccer team this year, John?" 

The one time John and Mary had tried to get the boys to sleep in separate bedrooms, it hadn't gone well. John woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of crying from down the hall, and had crept to Cas's room and peeked through the open door. 

Dean was wrapped around his brother, crying into his shoulder. Cas clung just as tightly to him, petting Dean's hair and whispering into his ear. 

"I couldn't sleep," Dean sobbed, pressing even closer, if possible, to Castiel. "An' then I had a bad dream an' you weren't there an' I thought you left me all alone an' I got scared."

When John got back to his bedroom, Mary was sitting up and rubbing her eyes blearily. 

"Is everything okay?" She asked. 

"We're giving Sammy Dean's room," John answered, and that was the end of that.

As the boys grew older, it became easier to tell them apart. Dean had his mother's light hair and freckles, and Cas took more after John, with tanned skin, dark hair, and vibrant blue eyes that no one really knew how to say no to. By the time they were thirteen, Dean was almost 5'9" and Cas was just a few inches shorter, even though he was older. They were still inseparable, and by then everyone had given up on trying to change that. 

In high school, nothing changed. They had different classes, but they had the same friends and stuck to each other during free periods like they’d been superglued together. Cas tried out for cross country in freshman year and made varsity, and Dean joined the wrestling team. People expected them to drift apart, or at least become less dependent on each other, but they remained as close as ever.

When Cas got roofied at a party in freshman year, Dean was there. When Dean was having a sexuality crisis, Cas was there and helped him figure it out. They came out to their parents together, Cas as gay and Dean as bisexual. They got stoned together for the first time when they were fifteen, and even though they rarely indulged, it was always together.

Some people asked them how it was that they never fought. 

“Oh, we do,” Dean always answered. “Cas just never lets us stay angry for long.” 

Everything between them was as perfect as it could possibly be. Until junior year.

◊          ◊          ◊

“Lisa broke up with me,” Dean announces, ignoring traditional greetings as he flings open the door and stumbles face first onto their bed. Cas hardly looks up from his laptop, his lips quirking up as Dean crawls forward and presses them close together.

“I’m not going to say ‘I told you so’,” he says, tapping away at the keyboard.

“You just did. Is that the English essay?” Dean rests his head on Cas's shoulder, absently kicking off his shoes and flinging them away. Cas murmurs his assent, frowning as he goes back a paragraph and adds a few sentences. “You know that’s not due till next month, right? I mean, she probably doesn’t even think anyone’s read the book yet.”

“I know for a fact that you finished the book _and_ the essay three days ago at two in the morning, Dean, so don’t you dare say anything about me being an overachiever.”

“Fine,” Dean huffs. “Which topic did you choose?”

“A character analysis of Penelope. You?"

"Comparison of the different gods that made an appearance. It wasn't that hard, but it was interesting."

"Are you going to stop pouting and tell me why Lisa broke up with you?" Cas asks, still not looking up from his laptop screen. Dean huffs a laugh and burrows his head into the nape of his brother's neck. 

"Who says I'm pouting?" 

"Mom made apple pie and you haven't noticed yet," Cas points out smugly, laughing when Dean perks up and sniffs the air. Sure enough, the rich smell of cinnamon still lingers in the air, wafting up from the first floor of the house. Cas grabs Dean's wrist before he can leap off the bed. "She also said that you're not allowed to have any until _after_ dinner."

Dean scowls at him before reluctantly settling back down. Cas shuts his laptop and places it on the nightstand, letting Dean lean against his chest and wrapping his arms around him. Dean tilts his head back against his brother's chest, letting himself relax into the loose hold. 

They've had this casual intimacy since they were in diapers, and they never grew out of it. Dean and Cas wake up tangled together every morning, and nine times out of ten if they're both home they're piled into a single armchair fighting viciously over Doctor Sexy and his various romantic conquests, or they're lying in bed, half on top of each other, doing various things on their respective laptops. The rare times Cas manages to rope Dean into a serious conversation, they happen on their bed, one of them cradling the other back to chest. 

"Why did she break up with you?" Cas asks gently, his breath ruffling Dean's hair. He doesn't push while Dean gathers himself, waiting for the inevitable answer to his question. 

"She told me I wasn't trying hard enough." It's all he needs to say. Cas immediately understands. He's known Dean his whole life, and he knows that the last thing anyone could accuse him of in any sort of relationship is not putting in effort. He tightens his hold on his brother nearly imperceptibly, and Dean gives his arm a reassuring squeeze. 

"She was very nice about it. She waited until after we paid for lunch, then she told me that I didn't have to drive her home and that we were done. Her brother came by a few minutes later to pick her up, and that was that." Cas doesn't say anything; he knows Dean doesn't want him to. This is what happened after Dean broke up with Aaron Bass, after the first time Crowley stopped talking to Cas, after Daphne, who had appreciated the fact that Cas was trying to not be gay but eventually got sick of it. 

"It's not like I expected it to be a long term thing, I guess, but still. She wanted it to be, and I guess she figured out that I couldn't give that to her."

"Dean, you gave Lisa all that you could. You both knew it wouldn't work out, but you have every right to be upset," Cas soothes, his fingers playing along the hem of Dean's sleeve. This is how the two of them work, easy conversation and no secrets.

“I guess. Still feel like shit though.”

“You weren’t leading her on, Dean. Both of you knew what the other wanted, and you decided to try it anyway.” Dean falls silent, tipping his head back to relax more fully into his older brother. Cas smiles, bringing one of his hands up to tangle in Dean’s hair. Dean sighs.

“Thanks, Cas.”

“Of course. If it makes you feel any better, Fergus still isn’t talking to me.” Dean laughs a little bit, eyes still shut.

“What did you do this time?” He asks. Fergus Crowley is Cas's on-again off-again boyfriend/fuckbuddy, and they alternate between spending every other night at Crowley’s house and hating each other with a bitter passion that rivals the intensity of Dean’s hatred of the football captain, Alastair Masters.

“He wanted me to get high with him, and he still hasn’t quite gotten the fact that I want nothing to do with all of that.”

“Good,” Dean says sharply. “He’s a dick. How long has it even been since he talked to you? A month?”

“Two.”

“Why do you even stay with him, Cas? You have to know that at lease half of the school’s resident population wants a piece of your ass.”

“Well, for one, he gives _amazing_ head,” Cas says thoughtfully, before he gets a sharp elbow in between his ribs. He struggles for breath even through his laughter, and soon Dean joins him. As soon as he gets his wind back, Cas attacks, flipping over and pinning Dean to the bed as he attacks his ribs with tickles.

Dean bellows and tries to buck him off, but Cas stays firm, keeping his brother’s wrists pinned to the bed with one hand as he makes him scream with laughter with the other. Pretty soon though, Dean flips them, shoving up Cas's shirt and trying to find that one spot on his left side that makes him beg for mercy.

As soon as Dean finds it, Cas is screaming, twisting in his brother’s hold and begging Dean to stop. “What’s the magic word, Cas?”

“Please! Ple— _Dean_!” Cas manages to shout. Dean just grins down at him, stopping his attack briefly.

“Who’s the more attractive twin?” He asks. Cas glares up at him, fighting a smile.

“Well, I don’t know if I’ve seen a mirror lately, but I’m pretty sure it’s still me,” he says. Dean narrows his eyes, moving back in, but Cas manages to get a leg between him and Dean and pushes up, throwing Dean to the other side of the bed.

In seconds, a full-on wrestling match is going on. Dean is the first one to pick up a pillow, but soon they’ve both got one in their hand, beating each other between rounds. They’re interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, and they both freeze in place.

“Dinner’s going to be ready in a few minutes, boys, and when I come up to bed later your room better be spotless!” Mary calls from the hallway. Dean, still motionless on the edge of the bed, starts to teeter and fall, and he tumbles to the floor with a loud _thud_. Cas bursts into laughter, and barely has enough presence of mind to call an affirmation to their mother before Dean is on him again, getting him in a headlock and rubbing the top of his scalp vigorously with his knuckles.

When they come down for dinner that night, their hair is a mess and both of them are rubbing resentfully at various bruises on their arms and torsos. It’s worth it, though, to Cas. Dean seems to have forgotten about Lisa for the time being, and as he and Sam bicker over dinner that night, Dean has a contented smile on his face, like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.

◊          ◊          ◊

Cas wakes up slowly the next morning. The room is shrouded in darkness, the curtains still pulled closed. Dean’s warmth is solid and comforting against his back, his arms wrapped around Cas in a reassuring embrace. Cas is about to slip back into sleep for another few hours before he realizes what woke him up.

There’s something poking him in the back.

It’s not the first time this has happened, of course. Far from it. Cas has woken up with Dean’s morning wood pressed into some part of him more often than he can count, but Dean’s always woken within a few seconds and rushed off to the bathroom. It had ceased being awkward after the first few times, and now whenever Dean or Cas got hard during the night, they treat it as an inevitability of two teenage boys sleeping in the same bed.

Today, Cas doesn’t rush out of bed or kick Dean out to make him masturbate in the shower. He just lays there, Dean’s arm around his waist and his cock pressed up against the line of his ass. Neither of them are wearing shirts, just the loose flannel pants that they’ve had since forever that they never seem to grow out of. 

After a few moments of Cas lying there, too stiff and uncomfortable for him to go back to sleep, Dean shifts. His arm tightens around Cas, drawing him closer and grinding his erection into Cas's ass. Dean makes a small noise against the nape of Cas's neck and suddenly Cas is all to aware of his own half hard cock.

The rational part of Cas's mind is telling him that this is sick, that it’s wrong, and that he should get up now and take a cold shower and forget this just like he’s forgotten every other time he came in the shower with Dean’s name on his lips. The fluttering in his stomach and the throbbing in his groin, however, urge him to stay. 

Dean makes the decision for him. His open mouth presses against Cas's neck, breath hot and heavy and sending shivers down his spine. Dean’s hips keep thrusting, his clothed cock sliding in between Cas's cheeks and shooting sparks to his cock. Cas can’t hold back his groan as he presses the heel of his palm to his cock and shoves his hips back, relishing the thick moan it earns him.

Every part of Cas's mind is screaming at him, telling him that he’s sick and that this is disgusting and _wrong_ but he can’t stop pushing back against Dean’s cock and moaning like a whore for something he knows will land him an express ticket to Hell.

It doesn’t take Cas long to come all over his hand, staining the front of his pants as he does so. Dean’s still rutting against him, subconsciously pulling Cas into him until he comes too with a low groan, warm wetness spreading across Cas's backside. There’s a moment of perfect stillness, no noise in the dark room, and then Dean shifts.

“Cas…” It’s a whisper, almost a moan, but it confirms Cas's worst fear. Dean’s awake. Cas tries to pull away before Dean can shove him, but the movement seems to wake Dean further.

“Cas?” Cas is frozen in place, pressed up against his brother, come rapidly cooling in both their pants. Dean calls his name again, softer, his voice roughened by sleep and pleasure. “Cas, what’s going on?”

And because Cas is just that stupid, he doesn’t lie. He doesn’t tell Dean that he just woke up, that he was about to go shower, or any of the possible things he could say to get himself out of this. Hell, he doesn’t even pretend to still be asleep. Instead, he says the stupidest thing possible in this situation. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Dean sits up, and Cas can feel him wince when he feels the stickiness in his pants. “What happened?”

There’s no way Cas can explain this without coming off as a pervert. Dean’s going to end up moving out of their room and hating Cas and nothing is going to be the same all because he couldn’t ignore his stupid, disgusting fantasies about his little brother. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, I should’ve woken you up, or gotten out of bed,” Cas starts, pulling away. Before he can continue, Dean’s hand is around his wrist and he’s being tugged back onto their memory foam mattress.

“Cas,” Dean says again, softer this time. He’s staring at Cas in the dim light of their bedroom, the pale light dreaming in from behind the curtains indicating that it’s well before sunrise. Dean’s hands reach up to cup his face, and Cas wraps his fingers around Dean’s wrists because this is the last thing he deserves right now, but he doesn’t pull away. Dean leans in, pressing their foreheads close together. When he speaks, it’s in a low whisper.

“Cas, did I hurt you?” This is the last thing Cas expects to hear. Dean’s thumbs brush wetness off his cheeks, and it’s only then that he realizes that he’s crying. He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Dean.

“No, you didn’t—you didn’t hurt me,” he manages to choke out. He wants to savor this, savor the last time he might be this close to Dean.

“Are you sure?” Dean asks, his breath warming Cas's lips. Cas lets his eyes flutter shut, and Dean’s thumbs trace almost reverently over his eyelids.

“Yes. I’m sorry if you feel uncomfortable sharing a bed with me, but I promise it won’t happen again,” Cas says, his voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asks, confusion clear in his voice even if Cas can’t see his eyes. “I was the one who was grinding on you in my sleep.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, everything makes sense. Dean doesn’t know what happened. He doesn’t know that Cas got off on it, that Cas _encouraged_ him. He can still save this. Dean doesn’t have to know. “No, it’s—it’s fine.”

“It’s not, Cas. If you have to move out, or get your own bed, I totally get it. After what you heard…” Dean still doesn’t move to pull away, his hands still cupping Cas's face, Cas keeping his loose hold on Dean’s wrists, and it seems like neither of them wants to let go.

“I don’t understand.” It’s true. Cas has completely lost track of the conversation, and it doesn’t seem like Dean has any more of an idea of what they’re talking about than Cas does. “What do you mean?”

Dean hesitates, his fingers fluttering against Cas's cheeks, before he sighs, the warm air drifting over Cas's lips. “I was holding you, and I was dreaming, and I got carried away. I’m sorry I said your name, Cas. It’s disgusting and wrong and I’m sorry, but it won’t happen again, I promise. I promise.”

Cas can’t breathe. There’s no way Dean could be saying what he thinks he’s saying. There’s no way Dean could want him too. But here they are, sitting on the bed they’ve shared since they were two, their pants a cool, sticky, uncomfortable mess, and Dean is confessing that he was having a wet dream about Cas.

“Dean,” he breathes, barely daring to say it, eyes opening slowly enough to convince himself that this could have all been a dream. “I’m going to do something. You can hit me, you can do anything to me after, I promise, but I need to—I need to.”

“Cas, what—?” Dean starts to say. Whatever the sentence may have become is swallowed the second Cas's lips touch his.

It barely counts as a kiss, really. Just a gentle brush of lips, with barely any pressure, but it’s enough for Dean. The grip on Cas's face becomes tighter, and Dean drags him closer, crushing their mouths together with an urgency that sends the silence of the last few minutes out the window.

“Is this okay?” Dean murmurs between frantic kisses, his hands running down Cas's bare back. Cas, for his part, flings his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls him in again for an open mouthed kiss, their tongues twisting together as they both struggle for breath.

“God, yes,” Cas manages to gasp before Dean’s flinging him down on the already sweaty sheets, straddling his hips and fucking _rolling_ himself down on top of Cas's cock and _jesus christ how are they both hard again._ Dean’s hands find Cas's wrists, wrenching them up and pinning him to the bed.

“Do you know,” Dean growls, grinding their covered cocks together. “How often I’ve thought about this?”

“Please,” is all Cas can say, thrusting up in time with Dean’s motions. There’s no way he could already be this close, not after he’s already come once tonight, but he’s straining in his pants and Dean doesn’t seem to be faring much better. “Dean, _please_.”

“Yeah, Cas, I know,” Dean’s voice is thick and dark, filled with something that sounds like promise. “I’ll take care of you, big brother.”

It’s all Cas can do to keep his moan at a volume that won’t wake their parents down the hall. Dean grins, and leans down so that their foreheads are touching again, most of Dean’s weight centered on Cas's hips.

“You like that, Cas? You like it when your little brother pins you down and makes you moan?” Cas is incapable of answering, his entire wold focused on the feeling of Dean’s cock rubbing against his and the sound of Dean’s voice, filthy and dark in his ear. He whines, low in his throat, and Dean chuckles, thrusting his hips eagerly. “Maybe next time I’ll tie you down, Cas, huh? Tie you ass up on our bed and fuck you till you scream for me. Is that what you want, big brother?”

Cas could say he doesn’t know what tips him over the edge, but that would be a lie. The picture Dean’s painting, of him face down on their bed with Dean buried inside of him, is just too much and he comes with a groan that’s muffled by Dean’s lips. It’s probably the best orgasm of his life and it leaves Cas shaking.

“Fuck,” Dean gasps out, locking their lips together before grinding down once, twice, three times. He gives a full body shiver before collapsing on top of Cas, letting go of his wrists and rolling to the side.

Cas is still panting, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. The entire thing is giving him a headache just to think about, and his thoughts are still scattered from his orgasm. Dean hums a little bit, slipping his hands around Cas's waist and nuzzling into his neck.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he rumbles, loosely pressing his lips against the juncture where Cas's neck meets his shoulder.

“We’re going to talk about this,” Cas promises. Dean sighs but nods his agreement, before wiggling slightly in an attempt to get comfortable. Cas shuts his eyes, trying to go back to sleep in some vague effort to convince himself that this never happened.

“Okay, this fucking sucks,” Dean finally says, sitting up abruptly and jostling Cas, who had just started to drift off himself.

“Wha…?” Cas asks groggily, earning a snort of amusement from Dean.

“I have two loads drying in my pants right now, so don't mind if I change really quick.” He shuffles over to the dresser and grabs two pairs of boxers, tossing one at Cas before quickly stripping out of his own pants and wiping himself down with one of the dry spots. Cas follows suit, perching on one edge of the bed while he cleans himself up. Dean throws the sheet, abandoned at the bottom of the bed, over the wet spot and clambers back up on the mattress, holding his arms out for Cas as he does.

“C’mon, Cas, we’ve got hours before we need to be up. Break started yesterday anyway, it’s not like we have to do anything for the next week.”

“Fine. But if anyone walks in tomorrow morning I’m telling them that you pissed the bed,” Cas grumbles, settling in against Dean’s chest in the exact position they’d woken up in an hour ago. Dean laughs and kisses his shoulder, pulling up the blankets and wrapping his arms around Cas yet again. 

“Deal.”

◊          ◊          ◊

Cas expects something to change. He thinks maybe everything between him and Dean will become awkward all of a sudden, like they'll be afraid to look each other in the eyes for a few days. Instead, they head down to Sunday morning breakfast just like they always do, throwing on shirts and lounge pants and trying to make each other trip down the stairs just like they always do. Cas tells Mary about their week, just like he always does, and Dean tries to wheedle John into giving him the Impala just like he always does. Sam throws bits of scrambled egg at Dean when he teases him about his not-quite-girlfriend Jess, and everything is okay.

It’s Spring Break, and Sam is going away to some genius math camp for the rest of the week, and John and Mary have booked a couple’s retreat for the first time since Dean and Cas were born, so they help Sam pack up and kiss their parents goodbye and wait for Sam’s bus to come and ruffle his hair before he runs to meet his friends.

It’s almost like every other Sunday Cas can remember having. Dean changes the sheets while Cas boils pasta for lunch, and when they finish eating they curl up in bed with their laptops and play various video games. Cas almost thinks that they’re never going to talk about last night until Dean heaves a sigh and slams his laptop closed with more force than probably necessary.

“Look, Cas. About last night.” It’s the worst, most cliché start to any conversation and Cas winces as soon as Dean says it. He doesn’t interrupt, though, and he waits for Dean to continue. “I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. We both were into it, and even if it doesn’t happen again, we don’t have to ignore it to keep going on like we did before.”

Cas takes a minute to gather himself, Dean’s words sinking in slowly. He doesn’t know what he expected: revulsion, maybe, or a simple statement that enforced his belief that it was a mistake on both of their parts, that it would never happen again. “That was…surprisingly mature.”

Dean snorts before punching Cas solidly on the arm. He refrains himself from retaliating, knowing that if he does it will end in another wrestling match. “That being said…would you be opposed to a repeat performance?”

Dean stills next to him, and Cas barely dares to look over at him. As it turns out, though, he doesn’t have to, because a split second later Dean is gripping him by the jaw and pulling him into a kiss hard enough to bruise his lips. The single action is enough to leave Cas panting into his brother’s mouth, and as Dean withdraws his eyes flutter shut. Absently, Cas's fingers trail over his lips, slick with Dean’s spit.

“I think I’d like as many repeat performances as you’re willing to give me,” Dean murmurs, gently prying Cas's laptop out of his hand and placing both of them on the nightstand. As soon as he does, Cas climbs onto Dean’s lap, fisting his Metallica shirt in both hands and dragging him into another kiss. Dean smiles against his lips, his hands settling lightly on Cas's hips. It’s enough incentive to make Cas grind down, earning himself a pleased gasp from his brother’s lips.

“I never thought you’d want this,” Dean says quietly. Cas's eyes peek open, seeing the raw honesty that Dean’s conveying.

“How long?” Cas asks, his breath mingling with Dean’s. They aren’t desperate yet, reveling in this simple closeness.

“Eighth grade,” Dean replies. Cas laughs, and when he smiles Dean catches his lower lip in between his teeth, earning a groan from Cas. “You?”

“Since I really knew how to want anyone,” Cas admits. He’s never let himself acknowledge it, but it’s always been Dean. Ever since he can remember, it’s been Dean.

“You wanna know how I knew you were gay?” Dean says, changing the subject abruptly. When Cas had come out to him, shaking and crying in the fourth grade, sobbing into his shoulder that he liked boys, Dean had hugged him close and told him that he knew. Cas never asked how, but now Dean’s offering to tell him.

“How?” He asks, a little teasingly. Dean grins and bumps their noses together, nudging Cas's head to the side so he can trail kisses down his neck. It almost scares Cas how _natural_ this whole thing feels, but then he remembers that they’ve always been this close, always been borderline _too_ intimate, and this is less of a giant leap for them and more just a few short steps away from where they’ve always been.

“Whenever we watched Doctor Sexy, you always asked me why why he kissed all the lady doctors but never kissed any of the guy ones. And then one day Dad was reading something out loud from the paper about marriage equality and you got really quiet. And then after that you never asked me again.” Dean murmurs this to his collarbone, pressing kisses to Cas's skin.

“I forgot about that,” Cas says into Dean’s hair. Dean’s fingers dip below the hem of Cas's shirt and start rubbing gentle circles into his tailbone. “How did you know you were bi?”

Dean chuckles, the vibrations soothing and familiar. “I saw you getting out of the shower, and you’d forgotten a towel, and I wanted to lick every single drop of water off your skin.” As he finishes the sentence, Dean’s tongue drags over Cas's neck, laving at the hollow of Cas's throat and sending shivers down his spine. 

“Next time I take a shower, feel free,” Cas gasps, his fingers tangling in Dean’s hair as Dean’s tongue dips lower. Dean shoves up his shirt, Cas lifting his hands to help as Dean strips it off him before leaning back momentarily to take off his own. He returns to kissing Cas's chest, fingers trailing over his ribs as Cas plays with his hair, scratching his scalp and tugging randomly on the thick strands. Dean’s tongue brushes over Cas's nipple and he sits up straight on his brother’s lap with a small, guttural cry. Dean grins up at him, dark and predatory, and the look shoots a thrill down Cas's spine and straight to his cock.

“Sensitive?” Dean asks, glancing up to meet Cas's gaze his eyes dark with lust. Cas manages a noise of assent before Dean’s tongue laves at his nipple and his head tips back in pleasure. He fists his fingers in Dean’s hair, pulling hard and making Dean groan. The sensation only fuels Cas's arousal and he grinds down on his brother’s lap, feeling the almost familiar sensation of their erections grinding against each other.

“God, Dean,” he groans as Dean moves to his other nipple, his fingers coming up to tweak the one he left behind. Cas had no idea his chest was this sensitive, but whatever Dean’s doing feels amazing, a strange combination of pain and pleasure driving him out of his mind with a need he’s never felt before. “I want—”

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Dean asks, taking one of Cas's nubs in each hand and _rolling_ them, causing Cas to throw back his head again and gasp in pleasure. “C’mon, Cas, you gotta tell me. Do you want me to blow you? Fuck you?”

“Fuck me,” Cas groans wantonly, not caring how needy he sounds. Imagining Dean spreading him open and fucking him is almost too much and he rolls his hips desperately, needing some kind of relief. Dean stops him though, moving his hands from Cas's nipples to his hips and holding him solidly in place.

“You want me to fuck you? Want me to fill you up with my come and then lick it out of you, make you eat my come straight from my mouth?” Cas moans long and loud at that, tugging on Dean’s hair hard enough for it to hurt.

“Please, please, Dean,” he begs, hardly coherent enough to string the words together. “I need it, need _you_ —”

“I know, baby,” Dean reassures him, pulling Cas off his lap and laying him down flat on the bed. He crawls on top of Cas, a parody of their position last night, and peppers his mouth with kisses. No matter how desperately Cas arches up, though, he still won’t let their cocks touch. “I know what you need. You try and act like some sweet, innocent thing, but I know the truth, Cas. I know how much you need cock. You’re so damn eager for it, I bet if I let you go right now you’d flip us over and ride me into next week.”

Cas nods frantically, humiliated but hopelessly turned on as he tries to reach Dean’s mouth again. Dean gives him one long, lingering kiss before pulling away again. The noise Cas makes when he does is pathetic, but it only seems to turn Dean on more.

“You’re such a slut, Cas,” Dean taunts, dragging his tongue down Cas's chest and pressing his hips down when they buck up. Cas writhes under him, the words going straight to his cock and clouding out all semblance of rational thought. "Just a dirty little cockslut, aren't you?"

Cas tries to answer, but then Dean's fingers travel to his waistband and tug down his pants and boxers just enough to expose the red tip of his cock. Cas gasps at the shock of cold air and tries yet again to get some form of friction, _anything_ , but Dean just keeps holding him down and smirking. 

"Answer me, Cas. Aren't you just a dirty little cockslut? Wouldn't you do anything right now to get me inside of you? Come on, bitch," Dean growls, his voice deep and thick and driving  Cas absolutely _insane._ " _Answer me._ "

"Yes!" Cas shouts, his fingers scrambling for purchase against Dean's scalp. Right now, he _would_ do anything, he’d beg and plead on his hands and knees if that’s what Dean wanted—if it would get him some sort of relief. 

“Yes what, Cas?” Dean taunts, his mouth inches away from Cas's cock. The draft of hot air whenever Dean breathes is torture, reminding Cas exactly how hard and desperate he is.

“Yes, I’m a dirty little cockslut!” Cas cries, shame long gone. “I’m your bitch, please, Dean, it  _hurts_!”

“I know sweetheart,” Dean soothes, his head dipping and his lips hovering a fraction of an inch above Cas's cock. “You’re so good for me baby, I think you deserve a reward.”

Cas sobs when Dean takes the head of his cock into the wet heat of his mouth. Cas has gotten blow jobs before, of course, but none of them were tinged with this edge of desperation and need. Dean blows him like he’s starving for it, quickly divesting Cas of his pants altogether and swallowing him down in one quick, hungry movement.

With Dean kneeling on the bed in front of him, Cas is sure he’s in Nirvana. Dean’s mouth is tight and warm and Cas distantly realizes that he's tugging on Dean's hair harder than should be comfortable. He can't bring himself to care though, not when it feels so _good_ and Dean is obviously having the time of his life. 

It takes Cas an embarrassingly short time to be on the brink of orgasm, but as soon as he feels it threatening, a huge buildup of overwhelming pleasure, he tugs Dean off him. Dean goes reluctantly, pressing brief kisses to Cas's thighs before he looks up. 

"Want something, Cas?" Dean's voice is raw but happy, and he can't quite get the cocky tone he'd had earlier back. Cas can't stop himself from smiling ridiculously at his brother. Dean smiles back, as easy as breathing. 

"Fuck me," Cas says before Dean crawls back over him and plants a long, lingering kiss on his lips.

"You sure?" He asks, concern creasing his brow despite his earlier bravado. 

"I'm not some blushing virgin, Dean. I know what I want." This doesn't seem to reassure Dean, because he draws Cas's bottom lip in between his teeth and kisses him again, roughly and possessively. His hands plant themselves back on Cas's hips, pushing him down into the mattress. 

"Dean," Cas manages to say as Dean claims his mouth almost violently. "Please."

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean breathes. He’s looking at Cas like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and it takes Cas's breath away. “Fuck, okay.”

Dean clambers off of Cas and collapses awkwardly on the other side of the bed, causing Cas to giggle even as he’s trying to catch his breath. He flushes and scrambles in Cas's bedside drawer for the lube that both of them know is in there.

“Why are you using my stuff?” Cas complains. Dean holds up the bottle with a wink and a cheerful grin before tossing it onto the sheets next to his brother.

“Yours is cherry flavored and I’m almost out anyway.” 

“Fine. Condom?” He doesn’t really want one, but he doesn’t know the last time Dean got tested and even though he’s clean he doesn’t want to take the risk if Dean isn’t sure.

“I’m clean. I got tested a few weeks ago, and I haven't done anything since then,” Dean replies hopefully. Cas nods his acquiescence, and Dean drops the small packet back inside the drawer, shifting something aside and looking at it appraisingly. Cas huffs in irritation, then, when he remembers exactly what he keeps in that drawer scrambles to pull Dean back to the bed when he starts digging through it again. “Damn, Cas, where did you get this shit?”

“Dean—“ Cas is cut off, his face flaming red in mortification, by Dean holding up the one toy he’s never going to live down.

“Do I even want to know?” Dean asks, but there’s something in his voice that tells Cas that maybe he’s not quite as horrified as he’s pretending to be.

“There’s an online store I like,” Cas admits, his face burning and his voice faltering. Dean chuckles and shuts the drawer, dropping the fake tentacle inside as he does. Cas groans and rolls over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and trying to ignore the sudden image of Dean with a camera in his hand recording him as Cas fucks himself on it. He doesn’t succeed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dean says gently. “I mean, I’m into some kinky shit too.”

This pulls a laugh from Cas and he finally raises his head just in time to see Dean push his pants and boxers to the ground. He’s seen his brother naked before, but only now is he allowed to truly appreciate the extent of Dean’s beauty. His powerful biceps; the rippling of muscle in his abdomen; his thick, tanned thighs.

“What are you staring at?” Cas just grins, lazily fisting his spit-slick cock as Dean clambers back on the bed. Their lips meet in a kiss, all the rushed intensity from earlier bleeding away. Dean finally breaks away, his hands groping in the tangled sheets to find the discarded lube.

“How do you want me?” Cas asks, winking extravagantly. Dean grins and nudges at his hips, prompting Cas to roll onto his back.

“I want to see you,” Dean replies, voice rough and honest. He leans down to plant one more kiss on Cas's  lips before crawling down the bed and pushing Cas's knees up against his chest.

Cas knows he should feel uncomfortable, with the most intimate part of his body shown by the obscene spread of his legs, but he doesn’t. He trusts Dean completely, with every part of himself. He looks down at his younger brother kneeling between his things and he lets himself relax into the bed. There’s no urgency between them now, just the click of the lube bottle and the wet sound of the liquid spreading across Dean’s fingers.

“Tell me if anything hurts,” Dean murmurs, pressing a reverent kiss to the back of Cas's thigh. He doesn’t plan on telling Dean to stop anytime soon though; there’s no way they can do this without a little bit of pain.

“Of course.” Dean’s dry hand strokes his cock almost affectionately before his fingers, slick with lube, start nudging against Castiel’s hole. He barely holds in a moan when the tip of Dean’s index finger dips inside him, not enough to be uncomfortable and just enough to be pleasurable.

“You’re beautiful,” Dean says, his voice as close to reverent as Cas has ever heard it. The words send a slow flush down his chest and he looks away, a wave of emotion building in his chest. When he glances back down, Dean’s cheeks are pink, but they’re both distracted when Dean finally slides his index finger deep inside the clenching heat of Castiel’s hole.

Cas gasps, his knees jerking against his chest. He’s done this to himself dozens of times, Crowley has done it for him almost as often, and yet prep has never felt like this before. It’s always been a means to an end, but with Dean he feels like he could stay like this forever and never need anything else.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, starting to withdraw his finger.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Cas says through clenched teeth, pushing himself backwards to try and get _more_. Dean obliges carefully, gently moving his finger until he brushes Cas's prostate, making him gasp and arch on the bed, legs falling around Dean’s shoulders. Dean makes a strangled noise in his throat, and then his middle finger is nudging at Cas's hole. 

“You like that?” Dean’s voice is regaining some of it’s swagger, and Cas might be annoyed if it wasn’t so fucking hot. The burn of the second finger going in is welcome, and the pleasure when they rub over his prostate is even more so.

“Yes,” Cas grits out, his hands fisting in the sheets. Dean scissors his fingers, and Cas throws his head back against the pillows to stop himself from crushing Dean’s head with his thighs. “Dean, please.”

“I love it when you beg,” Dean says idly, languidly fucking his fingers into Cas, and it’s everything he wants but nothing he needs. “I love it when you beg your little brother to do these things to you. You’ve been teasing me for years, haven’t you, Cas? Prancing around the house in nothing but those skimpy little shorts, it’s like you wanted me to bend you in half and take what’s _mine_.”

“Oh god, Dean, _please_ ,” Cas moans, all his resistance gone as Dean’s fingers pick up their pace, jabbing relentlessly at his prostate until he’s squirming, pushing back and trying to get away because it’s too much and not nearly enough at the same time and Dean’s words are rapidly becoming the only things he can think of. “Please, I’m yours, just do it, fuck me—”

“Calm down, angel,” Dean coaxes, massaging Cas’s prostate and sending a slow roll of pleasure down his spine. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry.”

At this point, Cas is beyond worry, Dean’s words and touch stripping him away until there’s nothing left of him but instinct and need and endless variations of the same desperate plea.

The third finger burns in the best way possible. Cas must give something away, because Dean shuffles forward and wraps his lips around the head of Cas’s cock. The pain quickly ebbs away, and soon enough it’s all Cas can do to keep himself from beating his feet against Dean’s back to encourage him. As it is, his hands are tangled in his brother’s hair and he’s shoving himself in two different directions: down onto Dean’s fingers and then back up, bucking into the suction of his mouth. It’s driving Castiel insane and he’s barely paying attention to the filthy words that are falling out of his mouth and into the quiet room.

“Please, Dean, no more, I’m going to come, Dean, _please_!” Cas’s mind is whiting out with pleasure, and the sound he makes when Dean suddenly withdraws is embarrassingly close to a whimper. He’s so _empty_ , and he’s pulled back from the precipice of orgasm as quickly as he’d approached it. Dean is still crouching between his thighs, his eyes hooded and fingers fumbling for the lube bottle. He slicks himself up quickly, then nudges Cas’s legs a little further apart and crawls up the length of Cas’s body until their foreheads are pressed together.

“You ready?” The words are gentle even though Dean’s voice is hoarse, and Cas’s hands slide up his brother’s torso and grip his shoulders.

“Please,” is all he says, and it’s enough for Dean. He reaches down and takes himself in hand, and Cas has to fight himself in order to stay relaxed as the tip if Dean’s cock presses against his fluttering hole. And then Dean is pushing in and Cas’s fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders and all he can focus on is how _full_ he is and the awful brush of Dean’s cock against his prostate as Dean bottoms out in one slow, smooth thrust.

The groan that leaves Cas’s lips is completely involuntary, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. His lips are pressed against the space below Cas’s ear and he mouths at the skin gently. Cas almost jumps out of his skin when Dean nips, but the flare of pain goes straight to his cock and it blurts out a drop of pre come onto the smooth jut of Dean’s hipbone. It reminds him that he’s still painfully on edge and, more importantly, that Dean is still fully seated inside him and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of moving.

“Move,” Cas tries to growl, but the effect is ruined when Dean nips at his jaw again and his voice breaks in the middle of the word. Dean presses tiny kisses across his cheek and then plants a firm one on Cas’s lips, tongue brushing Cas’s lips but not quite dipping into his mouth. Cas can taste himself on Dean’s lips and it’s intoxicating but it also reminds him that he’d better be getting his mouth on Dean’s cock in the next day or he’s going to tie Dean down and take what he wants.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Dean rumbles against Cas’s lips. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Fuck me, you asshole,” Cas bites, trying to roll his hips down. Dean frowns against his lips and grabs Cas’s knees, forcing them back against his chest and effectively restricting most of his movement.

“And what do we say, Cas, when we want something?” Cas would have never guessed that Dean had such a mouth on him before today, but he finds that it turns him on beyond belief, even as his skin glows with embarrassment. 

“Please fuck me, _sir._ ” He throws the last word in as a joke, but as soon as he says it Dean’s hips snap forward, driving Cas upwards on the bed with the force of the thrust.

He barely has time to adjust before Dean is jackhammering into him, using his grip on Cas’s legs to pull him back and fuck him harder. Dean’s cock is lighting Castiel up from the inside out, and he clings desperately to Dean’s skin as he holds on for his life, raking his nails up and down the freckled skin of Dean’s back.

“Please, please, please, please,” the words is punched out of Cas over and over again by Dean’s thrusts, and he doesn’t know what he’s begging for but he knows that he needs whatever it is as much as, maybe more than he needs air. Dean’s breaths puff over Cas’s neck as he burgs his face in the skin where Cas's neck meets his shoulder, little gasps and moans that Cas strains to hear even over the sounds of his own frenzied breathing.

“You’re so _tight_ , Cas, god, you feel so good around me, baby. Never thought it’d be like this, your slutty hole pulling me in, yeah, bet you need it real bad, Cas, don’t you?” Dean seems to barely be conscious of what he’s saying but the words go straight to Cas's dick where it lies, rubbing between their stomachs with every thrust of Dean’s hips and sending little jolts of pleasure through Cas.

He doesn’t know when his chants of _please_ turned into _Dean_ but his brother takes it as encouragement, biting Cas’s neck and shoulder as he fucks into Cas at a brutal pace. One of his hands lets go of Cas’s leg, and when it snakes around Cas’s cock and starts pumping at the same rate as Dean’s hips, his head falls back and Cas cries out. He’s so close, anything could send him over the edge, but in the end it’s Dean’s words that do it. He pulls away and looks Cas dead in the eyes, a challenge and a confession and a plea in his eyes.

“Yeah, slut. Come for me.”

It’s the most intense orgasm Castiel has ever had. It sweeps through him like a tsunami, his whole body locking up and convulsing with pleasure. As his cock spurts over Dean’s hand and his own stomach, Cas lets out a hoarse yell that’s abruptly cut off by Dean’s other hand slapping across his mouth.

“Shh, slut. Don’t want the neighbors to hear.” Cas’s cock twitches at that, but he hisses as the too-soon rush of pleasure along with the stimulation of Dean’s cock inside him proves to be almost too much.

Dean’s thrusts have slowed and now he’s thrusting at a more languid pace, actively avoiding the sensitive bud of Cas’s prostate as Dean works him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, Cas’s hole tightening and flexing until Dean stills, buried to the hilt inside him, and comes, his teeth latching onto Cas’s shoulder and biting until Cas cries out again from behind his hand.

There’s a few moments of blissful silence, and then Dean flops down ungracefully next to Cas, leaving him free to put his legs down and stretch them out. There’s nothing compelling either of them to speak, to break the easy silence, so Dean doesn’t say anything as he walks into their bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth.

“I’ll clean you up,” he offers, and Cas rolls onto his stomach, parting his legs slightly in invitation. Dean’s hands are gentle on his skin, wiping down the the sweat on Cas's back and carefully wiping up the come that Castiel can feel leaking from his hole. He’s never barebacked before, and he finds that he likes the sensation, likes being filled by Dean even after they’ve both come.

“Thank you,” Cas murmurs when Dean’s done. He’s exhausted, so he doesn’t protest when Dean drags the covers over them and pulls Cas closer. Dean is warm, and sort of sweaty, but Cas nuzzles closer anyway, letting the familiarity lull him into a half-awake daze.

“What now?” He whispers to himself. Dean’s thumb pauses where it’s been brushing over his shoulder, and the even pattern of his breathing stills.

“Well,” Dean says softly, cautiously. “I was thinking we take a nap, get something to eat, and then spend the rest of break making sure that you run as bowlegged as me at your next track meet.”

Cas snorts a laugh into Dean’s collarbone. Dean’s always been good at breaking tension between them, and he doesn’t know why he expected a serious answer. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean’s voice is hopeful and fragile, and Cas feels a rush of affection he doesn’t hesitate to label as _love_.

“Yeah. Now let me get some sleep, asshole.”

◊          ◊          ◊

So nothing changes. Dean and Cas stay Dean and Cas. They go to school and eat lunch together, they tease each other mercilessly, and every once in a while Dean drags Cas into a closet or an empty bathroom and fucks him through the mess of come he’d left the night before. Cas effectively breaks up with Crowley, and Dean stops dating altogether, much to the chagrin of everybody, male or female, at Lawrence High.

Junior year ends and, too soon for both of their tastes, senior year begins. They have less time for each other, but Cas still wakes up in his brother’s arms every morning and Dean still finds time to cheer at every one of Cas’s races.

They apply to all the same colleges, even though the guidance counselors and their parents tell them that the odds of them making in into the same college is astronomical. To neither of their surprise, Dean and Castiel both are accepted into UC San Diego, their first choice.

The rest of the year flies by, and before he knows it Cas is standing in his closet, trying to decide what he should pack for the plane ride to California. Dean is pacing in the room behind him, alternating between throwing things in his suitcase at random and taking them out again and putting them back in his drawers.

“We should have done this days ago, Cas, we’re leaving _tomorrow_! What if I’m not ready in time? Will I have to stay home? I mean, maybe I should, Sammy’s starting high school in the fall and he might get picked on and we won’t be here for him.” Dean is rambling, and Cas is trying his best to ignore it but the words are getting under his skin and finally he can’t take it any more.

“Dean, please shut up,” he says tightly. Dean’s voice falters and he glances up from where he’s been staring holes into his suitcase. “Sam’s going to be fine. We’ll be ready for tomorrow. Just calm down.”

“Yeah, but—” Cas crosse the room before Dean can say anything else, covering Dean’s lips with his own and taking both of his hands.

“Dean. Everything is going to be fine.” Dean doesn’t look convinced, but he leans down to cover the inch between their heights and kisses Cas again.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles against Cas’s lips. 

“You’re forgiven,” Cas replies.

“Oh shit,” Sam says from the doorway. 

Cas jerks away from Dean, staring in horror at Sam and waiting for him to holler down the stairs at their parents. He doesn’t though, just leans almost casually against the doorway and appraises the two of them silently.

“Mom just came upstairs, so if you’re going to keep making out in here, you might want to close the door,” Sam says plainly. From the corner of his eye, Cas can see Dean’s jaw drop open slightly, and he’s sure he looks no better.

“What?” Dean says. Sam smirks.

“I’m just telling you that you have to be more careful when Mom and Dad are home.”

“You _knew_?” Dean asks incredulously. Sam shrugs.

“The walls in this house aren’t nearly as thick as you think they are.” And now Cas knows when Sam found out. It was the one time they did anything more than kissing during the day when Sam was home, right after spring break of last year, and they’d thought they were safe because Sam had a friend over and they were playing video games downstairs. And then he feels his face flush bright red because he remembers in vivid detail what Dean had been saying as Cas went down on him and he’s pretty sure that Sam heard at least some of it.

“Sorry,” Dean offers weakly, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“It was just the one time. Anyway, do you want me to shut your door?”

“No thanks,” Cas says as eloquently as he can manage, because Dean looks like he’s about to put his foot so far into his mouth he starts deepthroating it. “And. Um. Thank you, Sam.”

“No problem.” The nod Sam gives him tells Cas that he knows that he’s being thanked for the entire year, not just this afternoon. “And Dean?”

“Yeah?” Dean replies weakly.

“I can take care of myself.”

◊          ◊          ◊

The one complaint Castiel has about the dorm rooms at UCSD are the beds. They’re tiny things, twin sized and mildly uncomfortable, and the only way he and Dean both can fit on one is if they lay practically on top of each other. Their roommate, Benny, still looks at them funny every night when they pile in to go to sleep, but the first night they’d done it he’d glanced at the matching gold bands on their left hands and told them that if they wanted to wake up with their backs hating them in the morning, that was their business.

Dean had proposed on the flight to California. He’d waited until they were safely in the air, after his mid-takeoff panic attack and the pills that were supposed to help him calm down. As they flew over the endless beige plains of Kansas, Dean had fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out a black velvet box, and Cas’s heart stopped.

“I bought it yesterday,” Dean admitted sheepishly. “Sam helped. But I’ve wanted to do this for a while, and I figure now’s a good a time as any.”

“Dean,” Cas breathed, his eyes flicking between the box and Dean’s eyes.

“Cas.” And then Dean had flipped the box open to reveal two matching rings with an intricate design etched onto the surface. “Marry me?”

If they hadn’t been on an airplane, Cas would have flung his arms around Dean's neck and kissed him senseless. As it was, he had to settle with leaning across the armrest and doing his best to do it anyway. 

“Is that a yes?” Dean had whispered, his breath blowing on Cas’s lips.

“Always,” Cas had replied. The rings fit them perfectly, and Cas knew he was going to spend the rest of the flight caressing the cool gold.

“It’s always nice to see young love flourishing,” said the lady sitting next to Cas in the window seat piped up. She had to have been at least eighty, but there was youth twinkling in her eyes. She dug in her purse and pulled out two pieces of candy, pressing them with wrinkled fingers into each of their hands. “I wish you two the best.”

The woman had settled back in her chair, pulled her hat down over her face, and fallen asleep for the rest of the flight. For those hours, sitting in what Dean described as a ‘metal death trap’, hurtling through the air at hundreds of miles an hour, Castiel was happier than he’d ever been in his life.

The weeks he’s spent at UCSD with Dean have been a close second, though. Benny, despite Cas’s initial misgivings, has turned out to be one of the most kind people Cas has ever met, and he and Dean get along like a house on fire. Charlie, the girl who lives in the room next to them, has also become a close friend. She spends the night in their triple room several times a week, crashing on the bed that Cas had used once in the beginning of therm before sneaking into Dean’s in the middle of the night. Her roommate has practically taken over their double room, playing music on the rare nights that she doesn’t have her boyfriend over.

Cas, Dean, Benny, and Charlie are all in the same college, so they share several core classes, and he finds himself much more fascinated with his major than he initially anticipated he’d be; the philosophy of science had sounded intriguing from all the descriptions he’d read of it, and it had called to him, but Castiel hadn’t had high hopes for the classes themselves. Dean has been flying by so far as well, his mechanical engineering major well suited to him.

Dean and Charlie can often be found arguing good naturally about their favorite games, and whenever Cas dares venture a comment, the speed with which they shut him down never fails to amuse him. Cas often finds himself in deep conversations with Benny, about everything from their mother’s pie to Benny’s biotechnology major and what led him to pursue it. He quickly comes to regret his first impression of the man, who had seemed vaguely disgusted at their initial meeting when he had seen their rings and their twined fingers. Cas later learns that Benny had been raised in Louisiana, and even though he’s very accepting and open minded and bisexual, he’s still trying to work past what he was raised to believe.

The best thing about college, Cas has decided, is the fact that he can kiss Dean whenever and wherever he wants. Between classes, in the on-campus restaurants, on the beach that’s ten minutes away from their dorm. Everyone here assumes they’re already married, which is why they share the same last name, and they don’t dispute the assumption. Which means that they’re officially a couple hear, and Castiel couldn’t be happier about it. 

Until Thanksgiving Break.

◊          ◊          ◊

Cas comes back from a meeting with one of his professors to find Dean sitting ashen faced on their bed, phone in hand. He immediately drops his bag on the floor of the tiny room and rushes over, perching next to his brother.

“What happened?”

“Mom called,” Dean replies. Castiel furrows his brow, unable to see why that would garner the reaction it has, but he waits to say anything until Dean explains. “She’s flying out for Thanksgiving.”

Cas's stomach plummets. Now he knows why Dean looks the way he does. Mom’s flying out, which means that she’s going to be here, which means that their friends are going to know that they’re brothers and their mother is going to know about _them_.

“Fuck,” he says hoarsely, unable to express himself through any other wording.

“Tell me about it,” Dean replies. “We’re screwed.”

That, they most certainly are. But there has to be something they can do, Cas figures, some way to keep them secret. It’s not going to be without some cost though.

They tell Benny and Charlie the next day. They’re all in their dorm room, and Benny’s doing homework and Charlie’s coding, and Dean and Cas are trying not to vibrate out of their skin. Finally Charlie sighs and shuts her laptop, fixing them with a stare from across the room.

“All right, guys, what’s going on? You look like you’re about to crap yourselves.” Benny looks up from his textbook, putting down his pen and staring at them from the bottom bunk, waiting. Cas takes a deep breath and wills himself not to break down.

Dean is the one who speaks first, his hands clenched into fists on his lap, knuckles white with tension.

“Cas and I aren’t married.” They both know that this will probably take some elaboration, but if they’re lucky it won’t be too much. Just enough for Charlie or Benny to kick them out. Benny’s looking at them with confusion in his eyes, but Charlie sucks in a sharp gasp and covers her mouth with her hand, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“Have I missed something?” Benny asks, and Cas shuts his eyes.

“We’re not married,” he whispers. “We’re brothers.”

Maybe if he keeps his eyes closed everything will be okay. Benny and Charlie won’t be disgusted, Mom won’t be coming for Thanksgiving, and the last five minutes will have never happened. But that isn't the case.

“Why are you telling us this?” Benny asks carefully, and it’s not like Cas expected him to immediately tell them to get out, except that he kind of did.

“Our mom is flying out for thanksgiving,” Dean replies, voice shaking, and one of his hands fumbles blindly for Cas’s, holding it in a bruising grip. “And she doesn’t know.”

“Okay,” Benny says, and this is it, he’s going to tell them that they’re disgusting, that they need to leave. “What do you need from us?”

“What?” It bursts from Cas’s mouth without permission, his eyes flying open like he can take it back somehow. Benny’s still looking at them, no change in his expression, and Charlie’s staring like they’re a puzzle she can figure out if she looks long enough.

“What do you need us to do?” Benny repeats. “What, did you think that I was going to make you move out?”

“Yes?” Dean says hesitantly. “I mean, we wouldn’t blame you for it.”

“I don’t care!” Charlie exclaims suddenly, then flushes. “I mean, you guys obviously love each other and all, so it doesn’t really matter because you can’t have genetically fucked-up kids anyway. So. We’re cool.”

Castiel is not tearing up. He’s not. Except when Benny climbs off of his bed and pulls Cas up and into a hug, those are definitely tears sinking into his friend’s shirt. Charlie slides down from the top bunk and wraps her arms around Dean and he’s crying too, so maybe that’s okay, and as Cas whispers his thanks to his friends he thinks that there may be some way to salvage this thing after all.

◊          ◊          ◊

Mary flies in that Saturday. Dean and Cas greet her at the airport and then confess that they took the train and that she should probably rent a car and take them to get something to eat. She laughs and calls them freeloaders, and then they show her the wonders of In-N-Out Burger on the way back to campus. 

It's not difficult, falling back into the routine of being brothers, but Cas still itches to grab Dean's hand or to press a kiss to his cheek whenever Dean smiles. Which is often. 

Mary chatters the whole ride back to campus, about the hotel room she'd booked, about Sam and his classes, about the gossip they've missed in the last four months. Jo Harvelle and Ash Tucker finally gave into their sexual tension, she comments, shooting a look at Cas through the rearview mirror that he can’t quite decipher. She shakes her head, then returns to telling them about the latest stunt Mrs. Mosely pulled off with the help of her class of first graders.

Benny is finishing his Engineering 102 essay when they enter, and Charlie is sprawled across the top bunk she’s permanently claimed, headphones on and fingers flying across the keyboard. She jumps a foot in the air when they close the door, then takes the headphones off and smiles politely. Dean and Cas take a seat on their bead, because their room is tiny enough without three people taking up moist of the floor.

“Mom, these are our roommates, Benny and Charlie,” Dean introduces.

“I thought this was a triple room?” Mary observes, the look in her eyes telling Cas that she knows exactly why there’s four people in the room.

“My roommate is an asshole,” Charlie explains quickly. “And they weren’t using the top bunk…” She trails off, sending a horrified look in Cas’s direction. He’s confused, until he realizes that she doesn’t know that they’ve shared a bed since they were infants.

“I thought they’d start sleeping in their own beds,” Mary fusses, smiling broadly at their roommates. “What with them being so small.”

“Mom, please,” Cas says, blushing slightly even though there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Mary smiles beatifically and sits down next to him on the bed so that he’s sandwiched between her and Dean. Benny closes his textbook and stuffs it in his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and nodding at the three of them.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Winchester,” he drawls.

“Please, call me Mary. And it was wonderful meeting you too, Benny.” Charlie follows Benny soon after, claiming that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast and that she’s starved and that the cafeteria is bound to run out of bagels sometime, right?

They don’t speak for a while after Charlie leaves, sitting in careful silence on Dean and Cas’s bed.

“So,” Mary finally says. “How have you two been?”

“We’ve been…fine,” Dean replies. He sounds nervous, and Cas doesn't blame him, because there’s butterflies building an army in his stomach right now. Their mom knows something, and Cas isn’t sure what or how much, but she knows.

“Look,” she says, briskly. “I know no one likes it when their mother plays matchmaker, but I have to say this. You boys have been dancing around each other for years, and I don’t know what sort of things might be going through your heads when you think about it, but I just want you to know that no matter what makes you happy, it doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both comfortable.”

Cas’s draw drops. This is their _mother_ , giving them her blessing. Giving her two sons her blessing to be in a _relationship_. This is nothing like what he had expected, and even though he’s still confused beyond belief, he’s happier than he’s been since Dean proposed. Speaking of which…

“Mom,” he manages to get out. “Dean and I have been…”

“Together,” Dean butts in, before Cas can say something he’ll regret.

“ _Together_ for nearly two years.” Mary glances between them, taking in Dean’s nervous fidgeting and the way Cas’s hand keeps twitching, wanting to hold Dean’s but still not sure that he’s allowed to. She smiles, then takes Cas’s hand in hers.

“I’m happy for you,” is all she says, and it’s all she needs to say. Dean clears his throat wetly and blinks hard, his fingers fumbling at his neck to remove the chain that has both their rings on it. They slip them on, covering the pale strip of skin where the rings have sat comfortably since Dean proposed.

“Everyone here thinks we’re married,” Dean explains, his voice trembling. “Benny and Charlie didn’t even know until a few days ago.”

“No one thinks it’s strange that we have the same last name,” Cas elaborates. Mary leans over Cas and grips Dean’s hand with her free one and kisses them both on the cheek, pride shining in her eyes.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says earnestly. “And I love you both very, very much.”

“Love you too, Mom,” Dean chokes out, and then Cas actually does start crying and they’re clutching each other’s hands and crying into their mother’s shoulders like they’re five again and Gordon Walker pushed both of them down the slide, one after the other.

“We probably shouldn’t tell your father about this,” Mary jokes, her voice thick with emotion.

“Sam knows. Has since it started.”

“He always was too perceptive for his own good,” she muses.

They sit there until their tears have dried up, and then they pull back and wipe their eyes and offer to show Mary around campus. The air between the three of them is different, but it’s a good different. It’s a different that Castiel can get used to.

“It’s a shame you two can’t get legally married,” Benny says later that week, as he’s wedged against a restaurant wall with Mary at his side.

“Well…” Charlie says, and everyone at the table leans in to listen.

◊          ◊          ◊

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak get married during spring break, at a small ceremony on the beach with five witnesses: Mary, Sam, Charlie, Benny, and Missouri Mosely, the officiator, who looks at them and smiles. 

Nothing changes.

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, this thing got away from me. It was supposed to be 3k of porn, but then plot(????sorta) happened, and this is where it got me. You can find more of my stuff at [my tumblr](http://www.psychecas.tumblr.com)!


End file.
